


The Stars Were Bright, My Dear Boy

by Not_Dans_Secret_Account



Series: Ineffable Husbands One-Shots [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: And By That I Mean, Based on a True Story, Crowley Loves the Bentley (Good Omens), Crowley loves ABBA, Enjoy!, M/M, Making Out in the Bentley (Good Omens), References to ABBA, and I said I would make it a fic, my gf and I were making out to ABBA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27795076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_Dans_Secret_Account/pseuds/Not_Dans_Secret_Account
Summary: It’s 1977 and Aziraphale and Crowley go to see Star Wars in the theatre, and, surprisingly, Aziraphale has never heard of ABBA
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Husbands One-Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025797
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	The Stars Were Bright, My Dear Boy

Crowley unlocked the doors of the Bentley as he and Aziraphale ran out of the theater shivering. 

“Satan’s sake, Angel,” Crowley exclaimed upon entering the vehicle, “It’s not even that cold.”

“Well, it is to me,” Aziraphale retorted through chattering teeth, turning on the heat in the car. 

Crowley chuckled at the hasty movements of the celestial being next to him. This had been the first time the two had so much as talked since… their little domestic. Crowley hadn’t wanted the holy water for himself, but even the possibility of owning anything that could harm him drove the angel to a safe distance for a proper decade. 

Crowley, full of agony and all alone, decided to call up the book shop, one day. 

And that went— well, better than expected. 

“The bookshop of A. Z. Fell and Co., Mr. Fell speaking,” the angel had stated, faux kindness shining through the receiver. 

Crowley breathed out a strong breath of courage, “Angel,” came out far too affectionate. 

A distant thud came, “My God. Is that really you, Crowley?”

“Of course. I’ve missed you— your presence, rather,” Crowley breathed heavily into the phone. He wanted to catch his breath before saying anything else, but realised that it was useless to wait around forever, “Do you mind?” 

Crowley bit his tongue for asking an angel for permission for anything. The good Lord knows Crowley had never given a damn about the opinion of the opposition. Crowley sometimes didn’t even give a damn what his own side thought. But, that of Aziraphale? A completely different story to Crowley. Why, Aziraphale had always been the exception. Even directly after he had fallen, Aziraphale never once looked down upon him. 

“N— No, I... I really couldn’t mind less, my dear boy,” Aziraphale matched Crowley with the softness in his voice. 

Crowley clinched the receiver in his hand, held it close to his face. Was this how Crowley had sounded when speaking? Had he really sounded so… so… awestruck? So engrossed?... so in love?

“Would you like to catch a film?” Crowley asked before he even realised he had wanted to say anything. 

Though startled by a decade of silence followed by such a bold request, Aziraphale accepted, “Why, yes. What did you have in mind?”

“That new Star Wars?”

“Sounds delightful. I’ll meet you at the theater.”

“Or I could pick you up from the bookshop. That’s easier for both of us. Well, not me, but I don’t mind a bit. I… I really couldn’t mind less,” Crowley fumbled out before landing back where they had started. 

Aziraphale smiled at hearing Crowley trip and struggle through sentences around him. Crowley only got worse when he was intoxicated. Aziraphale had missed those times they had gotten drunk off their arses and thought of them as he accepted the sweet, sweet demon’s request, “If you promise you truly don’t mind.”

“Truly,” Crowley offered. 

“Marvelous. I’ll see you when you get here.”

Crowley’s mouth formed to utter an ‘okay’, but nothing came out of him as he sat completely breathless shocked at the very idea. A click could be heard as Aziraphale placed the phone ever so gently back into its rightful place. What a gentle being that angel was. 

Crowley would have described himself as giddy, if his brain could have comprehended anything. He hadn’t so much as talked to Aziraphale since their last interaction, which was objectively negative. Crowley wasn’t ever the one to call the angel, so he simply sat by his phone on days that he had expected a call. Never once had he even thought to call the angel himself. That is, before this instance. And Aziraphale had said yes to the movies.

After having seen the movie and waiting for the car to warm up, Crowley turned on the radio. 

“Oh, I love ABBA.” 

“Who?” 

“Oh, you’re funny,” Crowley laughed, giving his angel the benefit of the doubt. 

“No, I’m perfectly serious. Who is ABBA?”

“Swedish pop sensation, ABBA!” Crowley practically shouted, “Angel, you must be kidding.”

“I wish I could say that I am,” Aziraphale said, “Given your reaction, I must be quite out of the know.”

“Just… just listen to this one,” Crowley turned up the stereo, beginning to sing along to ABBA’s ‘Dancing Queen’.

‘Friday night and the lights are low,’ Crowley adjusted himself to have his legs on the seat and face Aziraphale more properly, ‘Looking out for a place to go.’

Aziraphale copied the demon so they were now faced fully toward each other. Aziraphale looked into Crowley’s eyes as he acted out each line in one way or another. He had to follow them like birds zipping through the sky. His eyes spun in circles, they landed, and they fell. When they landed, they always landed on Aziraphale’s. Though, he wasn’t complaining. Crowley wasn’t exactly a chore to look at. Following his snake eyes was fun to Aziraphale, he was able to read things in those great gold tragedies. What he was reading at the moment in question, though, he wasn’t sure was correct. Could he be right? Could Crowley’s thoughts and wants be lining up so perfectly with his own? 

Surely, not. 

‘Anybody could be that guy,’ Crowley mimed playing the piano bit, ‘Night is young and the music’s high. With a bit of rock music, everything is fine.

‘You’re in the mood for dance,’ Crowley pointed to Aziraphale as if he were the ‘you’ the song spoke of. 

The beat started to pick up, ‘And, when you get the chance, you are the dancing queen. Young and sweet. Only seventeen.’

Aziraphale looked at Crowley wistfully as Crowley raised his head high in the air and looked at Aziraphale with a truly loving expression, ‘Dancing queen, feel the beat of the tambourine. Oh, yeah. You can dance, you can jive. Having the time of your life.’

Crowley looked like he truly meant what he had said, or at least that last line, as he resolved into giggles and turned down the music, “Do you like it?”

Aziraphale smiled up at Crowley, and saw that same desire lurking like a predator on the prowl behind those eyes. He wanted to. He really, really wanted to. But, only if he knew for certain that Crowley wanted to, as well. 

So, Aziraphale just stared at the demon, pleasantly. 

“I love it,” the angel responded, “Is there any more?”

“Plenty,” said the demon. 

He leaned across Aziraphale and into the glove compartment, and popped the ABBA cassette tape into the player in the car. Aziraphale kept his hands up and away from the lanky figure practically lain upon his lap. Up and away. 

Safe. 

ABBA’s ‘Fernando’ began, filling the vehicle and some space outside of it in the nearly empty parking lot. The sun had gone down and Crowley had parked his car so far away from the theater that there wasn’t a soul in sight. Thank God. 

“This has got to be my favourite,” Crowley stated as he increased the volume of the song. 

After a while of Crowley singing along to his personal favourite ABBA song, Aziraphale decreased the volume slightly. 

Aziraphale placed his hands on the seat between them. The heel of each hand was placed together and all ten fingers faced outward. (Aziraphale used to have trouble with that— ten whole fingers, five on each hand, felt excessive. It was quite awkward when, in the first or second century, a merchant in Crete noticed his four fingers on each hand. He quickly miracled it back to ‘normal’, but he was sure it stuck with the merchant until the day that poor soul died.) Aziraphale stared at the demon. He looked for something. Any kind of sign that Crowley wanted to. 

Then, something clicked. 

“You just can’t do it, can you?” 

Crowley looked surprised, but he knew exactly what Aziraphale had meant by that. Both had seen their eyes following each other as Crowley danced to the ABBA over the car speaker. Crowley took a moment to process— to decide. Would he? Should he? 

He decided that he must. 

He made eye contact with the angel, asking permission. He was met with a smile and a nod. 

Crowley slowly exhaled as he brought his left hand up to the back of Aziraphale’s neck. He gripped firmly and guided their faces to mash. 

Everything started slow as the tempo of the song matched every movement they made. Aziraphale and Crowley felt their mouths sink together. Slotting in as one as if it should have always been. As if the worst sin Crowley had ever committed had been not doing this sooner, and the best sin he ever could was here and now. 

Crowley pulled Aziraphale closer by the grip he had on his neck. Because of this, Aziraphale had no option but to welcome Crowley’s tongue into his mouth. 

As their tongues were sucked in and out of the other’s mouths, the music picked up to match the rhythm of the kiss. Everything was moving as they both chased after the other with their mouths and their bodies. 

‘There was something in the air that night, the stars were bright, Fernando,’ said ABBA. 

Crowley used his right hand to grab onto Aziraphale’s lapel. Losing grip in the heat of the moment, he exchanged this for his arm. And, finally, his waist. His left hand still firmly pressing their faces together. 

Crowley began making small noises into the angel’s mouth. These noises became more and more languid as the very feeling of Aziraphale began to overtake him. How soft he was, the thought of how he watches films. He gets so invested so easily. Crowley’s angel was a very empathetic entity. He kissed him harder. 

The smell of Crowley's car began to cloud Aziraphale’s judgement. He hadn’t been here, been with the demon for so long. And, oh, the noises the demon made. Aziraphale was losing all rational thought entirely. The smells, the feelings, the memories, the noises all began to make Aziraphale forget just about everything. He simply moved with desire and lust and everything an angel shouldn’t be. He kissed back harder. 

Both losing more and more control as the kiss continued. 

Against both of their better (or possibly worse) judgements, Aziraphale pulled away. He assumed the exact posture he had been sitting in before Crowley had played any music at all. 

“So, back to the bookshop, then?”

“Right.”

**Author's Note:**

> I left the ending up to interpretation ;-)) Criticism is welcome !! (My pronouns are they/them btw)


End file.
